


Love's the Pits (of Watermelons)

by sabriel75



Series: what I haven't written yet meme [9]
Category: Bandom, Ed Sheeren (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Friendship, Hanging Out, M/M, Popcorn, Singing, Songwriting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Watermelons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:50:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ed believes in soul mates. Louis can't help falling in love. But Harry's the real menace.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's the Pits (of Watermelons)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [junkshop_disco](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=junkshop_disco).



> All three of these boys are adorable and my eight-year-old son believes that Harry and Louis are soul mates. He told me so. And of course, Ed, ginger that he is, has very solid feelings about everything, but especially about Harry and his true loves. Because Harry sort of loves freely, don't you think and everyone should be his boyfriend or girlfriend except that Louis will always be the love of his life. Or that's how this story sees it.
> 
> I've no idea where in the One Direction timeline this should go. I've no idea why every time I thought Harry's name when writing this, it came out sounding like how Emma Watson says Harry in the Harry Potter films. I am quite certain that Ed Sheeran prefers cats but knows these boys behave like puppies and so that's why they're puppies until Harry's a cat here. Watermelons should always be a thing, just like popcorn and Louis throwing it up and Harry trying to catch it in his mouth. All pretty boys should do this together, on the couch, with one straddling the other. And I must love JD a whole lot to write this story because while these boys are known to me, it's mostly as a blip on my radar in comparison to say the Foals or the Heartbreaks or even Panic at the Disco. However, you've successfully inspired me to write another bandom story and I thought I'd never do it again.

Ed wishes he could convince the two stupid boys on his sofa of how blind they are. Their chemistry’s electric and something’s cackling between them tonight that he can’t control, much like the way he’s lost control of this brainstorming session.

He probably shouldn’t have given them the whiskey, but they’re puppies. Cute, adorable, playful puppies – who had begged for a treat and Ed caved. How could he say no? 

They were jumping all over each other and wrestling around on the floor, pulling Ed into their puppy pile, all smiles and grins and just wagging about that he forgot who he was dealing with.

Now they’re both drunk-sprawled on his sofa, moping and propped upright only because they’re leaning sideways into each other. Harry’s going to topple into Louis’s lap any moment though and Ed thinks he should get up and separate them, but he’s a romantic and clearly these two boys are in love.

In love, ungainly and irrepressibly, but oh so young and Ed believes they could be it – the real deal, true love, soul mates – if they hadn’t met of all times in their teens and in a boy band. 

Timing sucks. It really, really sucks and he lets this needling thought spur him on; his goal to write something that will quit Harry of his watermelon obsession. 

Harry’s singing a little ditty about watermelons, even now, drunk off his arse. He never stops – that one – and Louis is humoring him, humming along and holding his hand. Their fingers entwined tight between them. Well they’re clasped and smooshed in the upside down V, where their torsos are aligned haphazardly but where their legs, sprawling, are strategically kept from meshing. 

Harry’s tripping enough without his feet or Louis’s feet being brought into the mix, not that he is walking anywhere or he might because that boy jumps about like a jack-in-the-box, surprising the shit out of people all the time. 

It’s when Louis starts petting Harry’s hair, pushing it off his face, winging it back with teasing fingers, Ed starts to panic. They’re too precious for his words and he wants so badly to give them what they want and he can’t.

Nothing rhymes with watermelon, goddamn Harry and his melon obsessed noggin, because he carries on like Ed isn’t bloody pissed too and asks, “How’s the song? You finished it and included my melon bit?”

His words, slurred and mumbled against Louis’s neck makes Ed swear aloud before barking, “You fuckin’ expect miracles, Harry!”

Louis mutters, “We don’t need no song sounding like it’s off _the Wiggles Farewell Britain_ soundtrack.” 

Harry whines petulantly, “I want a summer anthem and it can have watermelons in it, if I want it to. Ed can do it. S’not nice, Mr. Tomlinson, how you diss the master of hits, Ed Sheeran.”

“M’not, idiot,” Louis argues, pulling Harry into a headlock. “Shut up and let him write.”

Ed ignores Harry’s whine, going aggressive and the tussle happening on his sofa until Harry straddles Louis, his head tilted back and his back bowed in a crescent moon. The sight will fuel Ed’s wanking session tonight and he leans leftwards in an effort to see Louis, because there’s no way they’re doing what he thinks, but Louis got Harry’s hips thrusting forward while his back arches even further, his head tipping backwards more and his throat keeps swallowing in spite of the obscene gagging sounds he’s making every five, ten seconds.

“What the hell Harry?” he croaks, when Harry nearly falls on his back and Louis lunges last minute, tackling him but still falling onto the floor along with Harry.

They giggle and giggle and snort and nearly choke on their own spit and Ed would be just fine with that… the brats! But he rises and stands over them with his hands on his hips and a disapproving stare. 

“You.” He points to Louis, “owe me,” and tugs up a loosey-goosey Harry, who wriggles and giggles the whole time Ed pulls him off and upwards. 

“Now behave,” and Harry solemnly nods before falling back on the sofa, laughing hysterically.

Louis lies there, on the floor, one knee bent up, his weight braced by his bent arms and stares, stunned and probably mortified. Ed can’t see Louis’s face but he sees the flush on the back of his neck, the pink on the tip of his ears and his heaving chest. He’s surrounded by popcorn, which explains the gagging, and Ed looks between them and thinks he can do this, he can give them this because they’re both beautiful and deserve this.

“I will write your fucking anthem,” Ed starts, glaring at Harry until he finally stops laughing. “But only if…”

Harry interrupts, “I told you. I fuckin’ told you, Louis, he could do it. So I get to claim my prize.” And he stumbles back down onto Louis again before Ed can stop him.

“You menace,” Ed says, tugging at Harry when he swats back, like a cat. Ed’s in a catfight with Harry over Louis and fucking hell, how did his night turn into this?

“S’alright, Ed. Just let him be,” Louis says and Ed backs off right away. 

“You’re a better man than me, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Yes he is,” Harry grumbles, laying Louis out flat by going boneless on top of him. He grins at Ed though before tucking his head on Louis’s shoulder. “G’night. Wake me up when you need me to sing our new song.”

Shrugging a couple of times until Harry’s hair flops away from his face, Louis nods at a pillow near Ed and he throws it over. Louis gets himself situated and Ed takes the sofa, now there aren’t two miscreant puppies on it and gently kicks at Louis and Harry’s tangled legs.

“S’dangerous,” Ed chides softly. Harry’s already snoring.

“Yeah,” Louis says, just as quietly, and Ed hears the hurt and agony in his tone and wonders if he can’t get himself a hit single out of tonight’s shenanigans.


End file.
